


Reversal

by droptable



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route Spoilers, Post-Time Skip, Pre-Time Skip, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-11 15:40:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20548568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/droptable/pseuds/droptable
Summary: A mercenary becomes a teacher, tries to deal with a sudden onset of emotions, and spars her star student.





	1. Fear

  
Byleth didn't need to turn back time to know what would happen next. She'd seen it happen to bright-eyed young mercenaries too many times to keep count.

The prince rushed in to attack. The bandit waiting for him was a grizzled bear of a man who had seen at least thrice the battles that the boy had years. The older man side-stepped an optimistic lunge with a bloodthirsty grin. It was in part Dimitri's own momentum that plunged the bandit's blade through his midsection.

Before, Byleth had had no choice but to turn back to her own work and let it go. This time, she could let the world fracture and fall and then Dimitri was rushing to attack again. The dagger at Byleth's hip went flying and sunk into the bandit's thigh. He stumbled and Dimitri's attack connected.

Dimitri never had to know how close a call it had been. That was the problem. He couldn't learn if he was dead, but he also couldn't learn if it had never happened.

  
The next day, Byleth handed Dimitri a new schedule where axes and blades had taken the place of his usual practice with the lance. He frowned at the parchment, but waited until the day's end to raise his questions.

Ashe and Annette fell silent as he approached Byleth's pulpit. "I'm sorry for cutting in, but... Could I have a moment of your time, Professor?"

"What do you need?" Byleth asked.

"Ah..." Dimitri glanced away. "I had some questions about my schedule, but I'll gladly wait until you're finished."

Ashe and Annette ran out of questions faster than usual. Despite Dimitri's insistence that he be treated the same as anyone else, the two still seemed to find it awkward to make a prince wait.

Byleth made some final notes as the classroom emptied. The last lecture of the day had run somewhat long. The courtyard outside was already washed orange from a setting sun.

She put down her quill and looked up. "You had questions?"

"Yes."

Dimitri approached her pulpit with confident strides, but hesitated once he was there. He clasped and unclasped his hand at his back, then looked at his shoes. "I want to make it clear that I don't mean to question your expertise, Professor. I only wish to have a better understanding of..."

He shifted his feet, then looked up. "Lances have been my focus for some years now. I'd like to understand why I should switch now. If that's possible."

Byleth tilted her head. It did make sense he would want an explanation now that she thought about it. She still struggled sometimes to find the right words with these noble children. Her father had been the one to deal with their noble clients in the past. Her concerns had been limited to the battlefield, where obfuscation was best left to enemies alone.

"I don't want you to permanently change your focus," she explained. She tapped a quill against her lips and thought.

"You have impeccable technique," she told him. He looked up with some surprise. "You're very strong. The hardest hitter among my students. Among the most diligent in your training."

Dimitri's ears were beginning to turn red.

Byleth relented. "It might be easier to show you."

She walked into the empty space at the middle of the classroom and turned to face him. She glanced around. Stacks of books, discarded notes and an empty inkwell under one of the desks. Nothing that could have passed for a fake lance.

"Looks like we'll have to settle for imagination. Take up your stance."

She closed her fist over empty air as if it were closing around the hilt of her sword and planted her feet. Dimitri watched her, then dropped into a ready stance with ease. A small furrow appeared in his brow. Byleth guessed he wasn't used to imaginary lances.

"Imagine I'm your enemy," Byleth said. "Someone who has faced dozens or hundreds of trained soldiers just like you."

Dimitri gave her a lopsided smile. "I probably don't have to imagine that last part."

"How would you attack?"

Dimitri's smile turned sharp.

He surged forward, fast and determined, his imaginary lance ready to skewer her. Exactly like he'd been taught, exactly as she'd expected.

Byleth threw her weight to one leg, the other pivoting back to push her rushing forward as well. The tip of his lance would have passed close, but passed all the same.

The great force behind Dimitri's blow left him slow to react. He could only watch with widening eyes as she rushed into his space, bringing both hands to her invisible sword and plunging it forward, until her fists tapped against the side of his abdomen.

Dimitri stumbled back in belated recovery.

Byleth stepped back as well. "Someone who has faced many soldiers and survived will know their training. Whether by instinct or study, they'll be familiar with how a soldier moves. And foreknowledge will often beat strength on the battlefield."

Dimitri swallowed, still staring in surprise.

Byleth continued, "And you sometimes put too much into a single attack. You need to leave some slack - be ready for the unexpected."

"Ah." Dimitri winced. "That... may be something I've heard before, actually. But how do you fight someone who knows your next move?"

"One way is by knowing theirs," Byleth said. She returned to her pulpit and her notes. "Even if lances are your focus, you should include more training with other weapons. Spar more with other lance users if possible. Learn where your enemies will see weakness, and how to take advantage of what they believe."

"I see. I think I can try that." Dimitri was smiling when she looked up. He gave her a small bow. "Thank you, Professor."

Byleth nodded. "I'll make a note of your sparring goals as well."

"Thank you," Dimitri repeated. He hesitated. "I... Perhaps we might spar again soon as well? I've never seen such a maneuver before. Perhaps next time we could repeat this with actual training weapons."

Byleth's quill hovered over the parchment. Another thing she had never really learned was to pull her punches. She wasn't sure she could do it with an actual weapon in her hands. Her previous sparring partners had all been mercenaries and soldiers, and even then most of her learning came from the life and death exchanges of a battlefield. She didn't want to hurt her students. It wasn't something she'd ever had to consider before.

"I'll make a note of it," she said, not looking him in the eye.

  
The months wore on. Byleth grew accustomed to loud shared lunches and to days surrounded by laughter and life.

Then there was an attack in the tomb under Garreg Mach. Feeling the gaze of the Death Knight on herself was unnerving enough, but seeing it sometimes pass over to her students did something strange to the hairs on the back of Byleth's neck.

She finally admitted to herself that she'd been putting off sparring them. Now she had little choice but to start. She couldn't teach muscle memory from a pulpit, and there was only so much protection she could manage with Sothis's power if she was on the other side of the battlefield.

"Those little delinquents could use a beating, if you ask me," was Sothis's opinion.

"If you can't get in at the deep end, you gotta wade your way in," was her father's advice.

Sothis grumbled, but Byleth sided with her father. She made time with Ashe and Mercedes first, able to keep things to target practice with their weapons of choice. Annette was next - her skill with the axe was still rudimentary enough that Byleth could limit things to just brushing aside Annette's attacks and not strike once herself.

She ignored the hopeful way Dimitri's head turned every time she announced her next sparring session, as well as the sour looks Felix shot her when it wasn't his turn next. Sylvain needed her attention first.

He didn't show for the first sparring session she tried to schedule. Ingrid and Dimitri dragged him to the training grounds for the second, late.

"Sorry about that, Professor," Sylvain said. He winked. "My date dragged long. I'm sure you know how it is."

There was a loud sigh and a disgusted noise from the edge of the grounds. Dimitri and Ingrid had stayed to observe.

Sylvain took his time picking a weapon. "I think one of these this week," he said, testing the weight of a training axe.

"Fine," Byleth answered. The Gautier Relic was a lance. She reached for one.

A small frown broke Sylvain's carefree mask. "Unusual choice for you, Professor."

They took their positions.

Sylvain twirled his axe. "You know, Professor, there's plenty of more pleasant activities we could be doing instead."

"Sylvain!" Dimitri called. Ingrid was grimacing.

Sylvain tried an especially elaborate twirl and dropped his axe. "Oops."

He bent to pick it up at a leisurely pace.

Byleth had never lost her temper. She didn't get frustrated. Her patience had once been called demonic. As soon as Sylvain had the axe back in his hand, she ran for him.

"Gah," he said, narrowly leaping back from a sweep at his feet. "Why, Prof--"

"Focus," Byleth barked, twirling toward him for another sweep.

She kept him busy, but did allow him time between swipes and left slack in her arms when he had no choice but to block her. Though Sylvain initially tried to keep taking it easy, eventually enough impatience built up in him that he begun to take the openings she was leaving him.

Sylvain had the skill when he made the effort. Byleth pushed them close to exhaustion. A glance away and she realized Ingrid and Dimitri had left at some point and were just now returning.

Byleth raised a hand to signal to Sylvain to stop. He gave a deep groan of relief and dropped onto his back.

"I think that was my entire life flashing there. Ugh. Hate to admit it, but it wasn't pretty," he said from the floor.

Ingrid went to Sylvain and nudged him with her boot. Dimitri approached Byleth. They were both carrying mugs of something.

"That was amazing. My eyes could barely follow you," Dimitri said. He held out the mug. "The kitchen staff said this would be good for regaining your strength. I hope it's to your liking."

"Thank you." The drink was cool and a little sweet, with hints of barley and lavender. "It's lovely."

Dimitri watched her push sweaty hair out of her face. "I have a somewhat selfish request, if I may, Professor."

"Yes?"

Dimitri cleared his throat. "I was wondering when you might next have time to spar. With me, I mean. I believe I've improved since last time."

"You have," Byleth agreed. She hadn't had to wind back time for his sake in a long time.

"Ah, you've noticed?" Dimitri rubbed at his neck. "I'm a bit embarrassed I mentioned it now. But I really would appreciate the chance to try my skills against you again. I believe your experience to be most unique in all of Garreg Mach, and even beyond. There's so much I could learn from you."

Byleth considered him. She had pushed Dimitri's turn far back in the sparring schedule. But seeing his boldfaced enthusiasm, she decided to rethink it.

"It will have to wait a week or two, but I'll have a date for you by tomorrow," she promised.

  
The date she set aside for Dimitri was then set aside again when Flayn disappeared. It took only a handful of days to find her, but it all left Byleth feeling... off-kilter. Her spine had been stiff with fear from dawn to dusk, and then suddenly she was being swept up in relief so great she'd been smiling without realizing it for the first time in her life.

Byleth had come to understand somewhere between those moments that she wanted to be a good teacher. It was perhaps the first thing she could remember truly wanting. But trying to be a source of guidance was a tricky thing to want when the sturdy handle she had always had on herself felt ever more slippery.

When there was finally time, Dimitri's tight schedule pushed their session late enough into the evening that no onlookers remained in the training grounds.

"I hope I didn't keep you waiting, Professor." He smiled at the sight of her already there when he arrived. The clear excitement in his eyes made Byleth regret, again, that she hadn't made time for him sooner.

"You didn't." She handed Dimitri a training lance and took a wooden sword for herself.

They took their positions.

"Shall I attack first, again?" Dimitri asked eagerly.

Byleth smiled at his enthusiasm. "Show me."

He froze instead.

Byleth's lips twitched. "A novel approach."

Dimitri blinked and unfroze with a chuckle. "My apologies. I was distracted for a moment."

He readied himself and charged. Byleth dodged much like she had before, but Dimitri was leaping back in the next moment instead of leaving himself wide open again.

Byleth found her footing and ran for him. She managed to get into his space, but he'd put enough distance between them to see her coming. Her swipe at his midsection clacked against his lance and she had to leap away.

"Good," she said, and rushed at him again.

She tested him for a while: first dodging and parrying, then seeing how he reacted to her attacks. Dimitri was an easy partner. Byleth didn't have to worry about keeping his attention - it was trained on her with unfading focus - and she didn't have to worry overmuch about toning down the force of her blows.

They continued. She stepped back from a sweep, then rushed forward to strike. Instead of parrying like she'd expected, Dimitri spun away from her attack and brought round another sweep. Byleth dodged and blinked at him. She knew that move.

Dimitri dropped out of his stance and grinned. "Hah. I'm glad that halfway worked."

At her raised eyebrows, he looked away. His neck was a little red. "I've been practicing... ever since I saw you use a move like it with Sylvain."

She gave him a small smile - which he missed, not able to quite meet her eyes. "Well done."

Byleth moved to the weapons rack and exchanged her sword for a lance. Dimitri watched her.

"Tired yet?"

He hurried to shake his head. "Not at all."

Byleth took her place across from him. "Dodge or block me, but keep watch. I want you to repeat what I do."

Dimitri smiled and planted his feet, indomitable focus returning to her once again.

  
When it rained, it poured. Byleth lost her father, lost Sothis, and only two weeks later nearly lost Dimitri and Mercedes both.

Sothis's power - now her own - did save them both in the end, but not before Byleth had watched an arrow pierce Mercedes's chest twice and not before Dimitri's warm blood had splashed onto her hands.

Though undone, the memory of it hardened Byleth's resolve. It clarified the answer she had reached after her father's death. She needed to keep them all safe.

She couldn't let up - even if the training grounds were too crowded to reasonably keep her appointment with Dimitri.

"I suppose there's nothing for it," Dimitri said, looking about the chaotic melee.

Byleth craned her neck, looking for an opening anywhere, frown deep. "There has to be something we can do."

"Hmm," Dimitri held his chin for a moment before his eyes lit up. "Actually, I may have something. Follow me, Professor."

He led them out of the grounds and toward the entrance hall.

"Where are we headed?"

"We'll just have to make our own training grounds," Dimitri said, smiling down at her. "It's a place Ashe mentioned once, just outside the walls."

Dimitri's steps faltered. "Although I hear it's a bit of a walk. Are you alright for time, Professor?"

Byleth gripped the hilt of her sword. "I'll make time."

"You shouldn't inconvenience yourself on my behalf," Dimitri said, but looked pleased as they walked on.

He led them out the gates, down a narrow mossy path along Garreg Mach's towering walls and then toward a sparse wood.

"I think this is it," he said. The young trees had given way to an open space. The clear area was smaller than the space of the grounds but there was room enough for their purposes.

"Good," Byleth commented. She walked about the area, mapping the rise and fall of the ground with her steps. Dimitri did the same. They naturally drifted to a starting distance and fell into position.

"Ready?"

Dimitri nodded.

They fell into a familiar rhythm as they warmed up. Byleth went on the offensive, trying at the brief openings in Dimitri's defenses and slicing her way under his guard. He had improved much in only a few months. All her testing blows connected only with his lance or slashed through nothing.

Still, they had both been distracted lately. Byleth with everything she was losing, Dimitri with some suspicion he still held unsaid. A mask of distraction had clouded his features often in recent weeks. As a child of Jeralt Eisner, Byleth had learned early that everyone had their secrets. So she had let it lie - even if this one twisted with a wrongness in her gut.

Lost in their distractions, neither noticed as the bout wore on. Byleth lost herself in the rhythm of it, in her own breath rushing in and out, in the rising thought of _still not enough_. Dimitri might block and dodge seemingly with perfection, but if she came at him unfettered she could still hurt him. She needed Dimitri to be better than that.

Getting tired, Dimitri overstepped a jab at Byleth. She weaved away from it and surged forward. Dimitri expected the usual - a slash upward - but he really needed to stop that. With a cry, Byleth swept out a low kick instead.

Dimitri crashed onto his back. Byleth stumbled back. She felt suddenly completely cold. _His blood on her hands, but too cool to call back--_

Byleth reached for it blindly, but Sothis's power was still spent from their mission a day ago. Nothing was there to answer. There were spots in her vision, but then Dimitri rolled to his side and begun to cough. Byleth rushed to his side. She fell to her knees, her hands hovering over him.

"Are you alright?" she somehow managed to ask.

Dimitri took a deep and mostly steady breath and sat up. When he turned to Byleth, it was with an embarrassed smile. "It's been a while since I've been knocked down like that."

Byleth dropped one hand, but the other still hovered over his shoulder. "Aren't you hurt? I... what can I do?"

He had to have caught something in her expression, because his voice went soft. "I'm alright, Professor. It just knocked the air out of me."

Byleth shook her head.

"These things happen," Dimitri continued. He chuckled. "Most often whenever I spar with Felix, it seems."

Byleth hesitated, then finally let her other hand fall away as well. "Manuela should take a look at you."

Dimitri sighed. "I'll visit the infirmary if you insist, Professor. But really, it's nothing. I wasn't paying enough attention. A lesson I deserved, I suspect."

Dimitri rose and Byleth hurried to follow, her hands hovering again. Dimitri gave a small, emabarrassed laugh at her.

"I'm sorry," Byleth said, stepping back. "This was an error in my judgment. We should have stopped much earlier."

"No, I... If there must be someone to blame, it certainly isn't you alone. I lost track of time. I'm supposed to have a better handle on myself than this, at least."

Dimitri ran his hand through his hair. He seemed to be moving fine. Byleth finally felt like she could almost breathe again. On some strange new impulse, she reached over to pluck out a blade of grass from Dimitri's hair.

There was something sharp in Dimitri's eyes as he watched her.

"I'll walk with you to the infirmary," Byleth said.


	2. Fury

  
Sometimes not even his form seemed the same.

Dimitri had almost always held himself at impeccable posture. He'd been a relatively tall young man, but careful to hold himself at a respectable distance. Eyes bright, focused, always ready with a polite smile.

The Dimitri Byleth had found five years into the future stood with a constant heavy shouldered slouch and somehow still towered over everyone. He refused to back away, letting others step back instead. His very presence seemed to threaten violence.

He rarely met anyone's eye.

Byleth could still picture that young man so clearly - all the places his image didn't fit over this new Dimitri. It was unfair that she'd realized only too late how deeply he had been etched into her.

She had a moment of weakness in those early days.

She'd found him in the catheral, a dark and looming shape that the monks and workers gave a wide berth. She'd stood with her hand on one of the cathedral pews and watched him from afar. Dimitri had stood motionless by the rubble, whispers on his breath, and Byleth had feared him lost.

She hated herself for the thought. It was a practical one, an echo of the mercenary she had been for a long time. She didn't want to be that anymore, not now that she'd had a taste of what it was to be more. She was done with a life of leaving people behind. Not her students. Not Dimitri.

That failure in faith stung even more later, when they were fighting off the Empire's attempt to drive them from Garreg Mach. Their defensive forces fought their way through the burning town and to a young general of the Empire, Dimitri's group taking the central street while Byleth approached from the side.

Byleth's route was the longer one. She had just enough visibility between buildings and trees to keep an eye on everyone's progress, but she missed some vital part of the battle. As soon as her route rounded a corner and opened to the main road, Dimitri was yelling, frantic.

"Professor, get down!"

So she did, instinct and trust. The general went down on her counterattack. When she looked up, Dimitri's eyes met hers for one fleeting moment.

  
The cathedral was the only place she seemed to find him anymore. Byleth took a breath for strength and walked into Dimitri's field of vision.

"Spar me," she asked.

Dimitri's good eye slid from her and back to the rubble.

"Go away."

"I want to see what you've learned," Byleth insisted.

"You've seen."

"Not firsthand," she argued.

Dimitri tensed. A muscle jumped in his jaw. "You don't need to."

He left.

  
Getting him to spar her remained her best best - a bridge between her interactions with the youth of her memory and this ghostly man he'd become. The idea that Dimitri might again take lunch or tea with her now was almost funny.

She offered to spar him again the next day. Dimitri ignored her when she arrived, no sign that he was even aware of her presence at first. Byleth stood two steps from his side and wondered what it was that he saw in the rubble. The cleaners were reluctant to touch the pile in the cathedral. Between the shattered stones she could just make out the fingers of a marble hand that had once belonged to a statue of a saint.

"I'm heading for the training grounds," she told him after a while. "Will you join me?"

No motion to acknowledge he'd even heard her. She stepped in front of him.

"Dimitri?"

Never sparing her a single look, he walked away.

  
Nobody seemed to know where he slept - if he slept. The other Blue Lions had readily taken up their old rooms from their days as students. Annette and Mercedes admitted with fragile hope that they had cleaned Dimitri's room for him, but there was no sign that anyone had gone in since.

After the prayers at sunset, the cathedral always emptied as night fell. Byleth had hoped not to find him there so late, but Dimitri was still there when she checked the cathedral at night.

His whispers had grown louder in the dark.

Byleth left silently and returned the next night, her footsteps echoing deep in the empty cavernous space.

Dimitri successfully ignored her up until a great cacophony of clattering as she emptied an armful of training weapons onto one of the pews.

He was glaring at her when she straightened and turned.

"Spar me," she commanded.

He held his glare, but didn't move or speak. Byleth let out a sharp breath and turned to the pile of training weaponry. She picked out a light wooden sword.

The clatter of untangling it from its peers masked Dimitri's approach. When Byleth turned, she found herself almost nose to black armor.

"What are you doing?" Dimitri demanded.

Byleth had to crane her neck to frown up at him. "I'm making my own training grounds."

Dimitri's eye narrowed. Did he remember that it was his own words she was echoing? A few months for her, years and years for him.

"Why?" he asked.

"Nothing's changed for me," Byleth tried to explain. "I still want..."

Her gaze fell from Dimitri's face to the vague vicinity of his shoulder. _To keep you safe_, Byleth's thoughts finished. It didn't seem like the sort of thing he would be willing to hear, however.

"I still want what's best for you," she finished, making herself look up again. "And that means training."

There was something dark and bitter in his gaze. "There's nothing left for you to teach me."

He turned and stalked away, disappearing into the night. Byleth was left alone in the dark and echoing cathedral.

The training sword rattled with the force of her grip. She needed... she needed to have woken five years earlier.

Not wanting her effort to go completely to waste, Byleth begun to run her drills in the empty space that daytime filled with worshipers. The echoes of her breathing and steps were eerie and strange, but the motion and exertion helped to calm her mind at least a little.

She repeated her ghostly drills in the nights that followed. She brought both a sword and a lance with her, but didn't even have the chance to ask Dimitri again. Sometimes he wasn't there at all. Usually he left as soon as she arrived.

Just once, he stayed for the first half of her routine. Byleth thought she could feel his eyes on her a few times as she moved - but he was gone again the next day.

  
Dimitri's continued absence from the cathedral ignited a flare of frustration that dug in deep. Byleth ran her drills late in an attempt to escape the unfamiliar irritation.

Which had left her tired and worn when she should have been alert, even if it was supposed to be just another band of monsters to hunt down.

She'd missed the last beast - and really how did anyone even manage to miss a giant wolf - and couldn't get enough distance from it quickly enough. The first swipe was an easy duck, but the second came faster than she could find her footing. It sent her flying, but luckily far enough that she was out of harm's way while others finished the job.

In the end, her injuries weren't much more than fractures and bruises that Manuela's magic easily erased afterward. Byleth had taken a small crew of knights and her fellow former teachers for the mission, not wanting to risk or tire her students whenever she could. Word about her injury got around nonetheless, probably courtesy of Alois's lack of indoor voice. Annette fussed and Felix nodded from across a room in some kind of warrior's solidarity.

Dimitri was there when Byleth arrived for her drills that evening. Instead of ignoring her, he strode over and yanked the training lance from her hand.

"Fine," he spat. "I'll show you."

His gaze seemed even more haunted than usual. Byleth opened her mouth - and closed it, daring only to nod for fear he would change his mind.

He took two great strides to put distance between them and spun the lance into his hands. Byleth moved forward, the sound of her step like echoing like a bell in the silence.

"Ready?" she asked.

Dimitri looked furious. Like the beast earlier, he was there before she knew it. She brought her arm forward to block, but too late to bring enough strength to it. Dimitri swept upward and her blade flew up, out of her control. The blow jarred her arm enough that she nearly lost her grip.

Dimitri spun and his lance knocked Byleth's feet from underneath her. There was a curse on her breath, but she never hit the ground. Dimitri grabbed her by the arm instead.

His grip was steely. He stared down at her with cold eyes. "You're the one who needs to learn."

He pushed her back to her feet and away. Byleth found her footing with a frown.

"Leave the fighting to the beasts," Dimitri continued. "You've become too soft for it."

He turned his back on her. The lance began to fall from his fingers.

Byleth had wondered sometimes if she'd inherited more from the fiery Sothis than just the hair and the eyes. That same question was at the back of her mind now as her temper flared at that turned back. She grit her teeth and ran for it.

Dimitri scooped the still falling lance back into his hands. He whirled just in time to block her, then leapt back. Byleth growled and pushed herself into another attack. It connected with Dimitri's bicep. Not her full strength, but enough force to make him grunt and throw a careless swipe back at her.

Byleth didn't leave him time to walk away again. She pushed and chased. After an attack missed his throat by an inch and his counterattack went ridiculously astray, he stopped trying to flee.

It was an old dance with half its steps changed. Byleth remembered the tentative first steps between mercenary and prince, a careful waltz between teacher and student, and now this frantic thing between... what?

Byleth ducked from high sweeps, weaved between fierce jabs, and tossed herself into counterattacks. Dimitri lunged for her, his lance cutting the air with harsh echoing sound. He took some of her shallower blows without flinching - taking the advantage by moving into them instead of away.

Time seemed meaningless. Byleth eventually became aware of a shaking in her legs. She took a great leap back and held up a hand. Dimitri stopped, chest heaving. Byleth was gulping for air.

She straightened, but all words stuck like something swollen in her throat. Dimitri dropped his lance, the echo of the clatter startlingly loud, and walked away. Byleth watched him disappear through the doorway to the terrace.

Her arm was shaking when she reached for the discarded lance. She left the cathedral on still unsteady legs.

  
Sothis would have had choice words for her. In her absence, Byleth had to give the talking to herself... by herself.

What had that accomplished? She had been an idiot. A fool. A nincompoop? That didn't sound like a real word, but she had the feeling Sothis had used a word like it once. Impatient, unthinking, childish. Was there a danger she'd done more harm than good? Perhaps, but at least she'd finally done something. And now she also had a better idea of the limits of her own changed temper.

Was she letting herself off the hook too easily? Sothis had been much better at these. Byleth sighed, then groaned as turning over in her bed made a dozen different muscles protest.

  
She wasn't really in shape for more sparring the next night or even the night after, but staying away just wasn't an option.

Dimitri wasn't there. A reprieve, but also a disappointment that hit hard somewhere in her chest. She did her usual drills, defiantly but carefully, and made an earlier night of it.

Dimitri stayed away for two more nights before making an appearance. He watched her approach with a disdainful but tired eye and took the spear she held out.

Byleth felt a little weak with the relief of it. She turned and stepped to a comfortable distance before it could show.

This time Dimitri let her start. Her first attack was weak, testing, and he swept it aside with a lazy toss of his arm.

She spun back. He watched her without expression, standing at rest and refusing to take make himself actually ready. Was he just playing at something again? Byleth breathed, letting the twinge of annoyance pass before it could bloom into anything foolish. This was too important.

She attacked again, and then again, taking her time. Step by step, she moved faster and fiercer until Dimitri was finally forced to begin taking her seriously. He countered a stab at his side and fell into rhythm with her. Little by little, his attacks pushed at her as well, pulling Byleth out of careful and planned and into simple memory and motion.

It was some kind of meeting in the middle. They didn't fall into the frantic desperation of the first time again, but they pushed each other far enough that they were both moving by instinct rather than calculation, breathing heavy by the end.

After she stopped the bout again, Dimitri spun the lance over in his hands and offered the end of it to Byleth. He held her gaze while she took it back.

He was still gone or turned a blind eye to her most of the nights that followed, but there were a handful that were different. Byleth learned to recognize those nights by a greater press on his shoulders, or by the way his head would turn just a little at the sound of her approaching footsteps.

On those nights she could offer him a weapon and he would take it. On those nights, even if just for some small moments, there was something that they shared again.

  
The last time he sparred her like that was a good deal after Myrddin. The battle there had been bitter and sweet. Seeing Dedue alive again had been a breath-stealing shock of relief and joy. Byleth could only imagine how Dimitri had felt.

But after there had been all too many familiar faces whose eyes they'd had to see shut forever.

In the days that followed Dimitri glowered like never before. He snapped where he had ignored before, fists clenching and then unclenching when he thought no-one was looking.

He stopped appearing in the cathedral at night. At first Byleth had hoped it was Dedue's influence - that perhaps he had succeeded in getting Dimitri to rest where the rest of them had had no hope of it.

The ever darkening circles under Dimitri's eyes suggested otherwise.

Byleth didn't stop going to the cathedral at night, but at some point she stopped expecting. The same disappointment night after night hurt too much.

Three weeks on and with another battle looming, Byleth woke from a shallow sleep to a muffled thump on her door. It had been almost too quiet to be sure she'd heard anything.

No-one was there when she opened her door, but she caught Dimitri's retreating back when she stuck her head outside. He was heading for the training grounds.

Byleth dressed in a hurry and followed. She could hear the whooshing and snap of his lance from far away.

A spear went flying across the arena when she entered. It knocked one of the standing targets off its legs.

At the other side of the grounds, Dimitri straightened himself from the throw. He had his bad eye to her.

"Were you at my door?" Byleth asked. Her voice sounded strange in the nightly grounds.

He went to a rack of weapons and tossed a wooden sword her way.

Byleth caught it. When she looked back at him, Dimitri was holding another lance and glaring at her expectantly. Byleth moved to face him, shaking sleep out of her hands.

Dimitri began running for her and she readied herself for it. Oh, she'd missed this. _Missed him,_ some part of her whispered, but the thought flitted obediently back to its hiding place as she lost herself in breath and motion.

Dimitri was careless, his gaze distracted and his movements hurried. Their bouts were usually without words, but Byleth broke that unspoken rule this time. She caught something familiar in his movements. Something in his footwork, in the way he spun to counter her...

She took a longer leap to the side to give herself time to speak. "I recognize that."

Dimitri looked sour, but gave her the time she needed. "Oh?"

She narrowed her eyes and slashed at him, pushing Dimitri to repeat himself. He complied, but looked none too happy about it.

"It's one of yours," Dimitri ground out when she stepped back. "How about it, Professor? How does that feel? I've used what you've taught me to take too many lives to count. To hunt, crush, kill."

Byleth had been a mercenary for far too long to be shocked. "I'm glad it helped keep you alive."

Her words seemed to hit some nerve. "If you get in my way, you'll see it turned against even yourself," he snapped.

The attacks that followed were relentless. The last dregs of Byleth's sleepiness were quickly jarred away as keeping up with Dimitri's onslaught took all her focus.

It was an unfair match from the get go. Dimitri seemed intent on scoring a deciding strike against her, perhaps even at the risk of striking a little too hard. Byleth remained careful not to hurt him, knowing his new tendency to take some blows instead of dodging. Eventually Dimitri's advantage and fraying temper gave him the edge he needed.

Byleth had put distance between them when suddenly Dimitri threw his lance at her._ That's not a throwing spear, Dimitri_, she thought inanely as she rolled to the side - and Dimitri was on her as she rose. She tried to step aside and wind back her swordarm but he grabbed her wrist, pulling her arm up too high for her to get the momentum she needed.

His stupid height advantage nearly pulled her off her feet. Byleth stumbled into Dimitri, glaring up at his good eye. He glared back.

Byleth couldn't recall ever being this physically close to him before. She could feel the wild rise and fall of Dimitri's chest where they were pressed together, the sigh of air against her neck as he huffed in frustration. She felt everything with dizzying surety - the warmth of his body, the smell of exertion on both of them, the flush rushing across every inch of her skin.

Byleth felt feverish. Her lips parted with a shaky breath. Dimitri's gaze became unfocused and dropped to her mouth.

He started away from her as if scalded.

"What..."

Byleth dropped her arm slowly. She could still feel his grip like a brand on her skin.

Dimitri's hands were shaking. He balled them into fists. "Even you..." He muttered, voice trembling. "I'll..."

With a grunt, he tore himself away and left the grounds. Byleth let her sword clatter to the ground. She fell to her knees beside it.

Once her thoughts sluggishly started running again, she rose and wandered to the nearest well and dunked her face into a bucket of icy water.


	3. Fervor

  
After what felt like an eternity balancing on some dangerous precipice, Dimitri finally took Byleth's hand in the rain. She enclosed the very light grasp with both of her own hands. Dimitri's hand was too cold.

"Come on," she murmured.

Dimitri followed meekly. Byleth considered Dedue's door, but there was still fear in the fledgling hope she now felt. Dedue was kind - but too kind. When push came to shove, Byleth feared he would just follow Dimitri down that cliff.

Byleth guided Dimitri into the dusty warmth of her room. She took his lance from unprotesting fingers, sat him on her bed, and closed her door to the rain. She left the lance leaning against the wall.

She handed Dimitri a towel and turned to her closet. She stopped short at the sight of a bundle wrapped in dark cloth at the bottom, set apart from her own things. She had never had the time to decide what to do with them, but here they still waited as if this had been their destiny all along.

No-one had missed them or touched them over the years. Loss still stung at her, but at least it was now tempered by time and another urgency.

Byleth glanced back at Dimitri. The towel remained unused in his hands. His gaze was unfocused, staring at nothing.

She placed the old clothes on her desk. Dimitri startled when she took the towel from him.

"We need to get you dry," Byleth explained as she unfolded the towel. "Get you warm."

She laid the towel over Dimitri's head and scrubbed gently at his hair. Dimitri made a low huff that was almost a chuckle. He let Byleth work at his hair until she was satisfied. She pushed the towel down to hang around his neck when she was done.

She turned back to the old clothes. A dry sprig of lavender rolled out as Byleth unbundled them. They really seemed untouched.

"These were my father's. He'd be happy to see them go to use," she explained.

Byleth heard a snap, then another. When she turned, Dimitri was undoing the clasps on his armor. She swallowed past a dryness in her mouth and helped him, laying the pieces to dry on her desk and shelves.

When Dimitri began to tug the collar of his shirt, Byleth whirled around and frowned at herself. She was no blushing noblewoman whose eyes had been shielded from the male form all her life. But would she be taking advantage? Taking advantage of what? How? By looking?

"Oh," Dimitri said. He stopped moving.

Mystified at herself, Byleth took a steadying breath. "I'm going to fetch some water. Can you get changed while I do?"

She glanced at him over her shoulder. Dimitri was slightly red. He turned his face away and nodded.

Outside the rain was coming down hard. Though the well was close, Byleth was soaked by the time that she returned with a full pitcher. She rapped softly on her door.

"I'm decent," came Dimitri's voice.

His clothes were in a wet pile on the floor. He was still on her bed, back against the wall and staring down at his empty hands. The sloppily buttoned shirt hung somewhat loose on him, but it was a decent fit. Byleth tore her eyes away and busied herself with preparing some warming tea.

She dug out a small cooking stove and caught Dimitri looking at it.

"It was a self-indulgent purchase. I had been having some late nights." Byleth shut her mouth, remembering the reason for those nights - and the dark arena and a memory of heat that wouldn't leave her alone.

She prepared the tea, a calming blend of lavender and chamomile. Dimitri's breathing grew slow and steady while they waited for the tea to cool.

"I'm sorry," Dimitri mumbled when she handed him a cup. He downed it in one.

"Try to get some rest," Byleth suggested.

Dimitri shook his head, but soon enough his eyelid was drooping.

"I thought it was the exertion," he mumbled, almost inaudible, "but I guess... it was just..."

"What?" Byleth asked, as soft as she could.

Dimitri didn't answer. His chin had dropped to his chest and he was breathing deep and even. The position didn't look particularly good for him, but Byleth didn't dare risk waking him. She quietly put away her soaked coat and curled up in her desk chair to watch over Dimitri's sleep.

All was quiet except for the steady sound of Dimitri's breathing. Sleep claimed Byleth as well at some point.

Dimitri was gone when she woke. For a moment a terrible cold fear gripped Byleth, but then she noticed the lance still against her wall. Dimitri wouldn't leave Garreg Mach without it.

Something warm slipped off Byleth's back as she stood. A blanket had been draped over her shoulders as she'd slept.

  
In the end it was almost like some gruesome trade had been made. Rodrigue was buried. Little by litte, Dimitri re-entered the land of the living in his stead.

He stopped haunting the cathedral. There were signs his room was in use again. Byleth spotted him at lunch with Gilbert and Catherine one day, the first hint of a smile on his face. The sight of it at long last filled Byleth with warring emotion. A soft joy and a dark longing.

Dimitri began attending their war councils as well, and sought Byleth out after his first concluded.

"Professor, if I may? I need to speak with you."

"Of course," Byleth said. Dimitri was standing unusually straight and alert, frowning in thought. Byleth tried to smooth down the buzz of enthusiasm that nudged at her. It had been so long since he'd asked for her time like this.

Dimitri wouldn't meet her eye. He seemed lost in his thoughts.

Byleth took a breath and dared herself to speak first, "Have you been up to the third floor before?"

Dimitri's eye finally focused on her. "Third floor?"

"Rhea's quarters are up there, but there's also a balcony. It might be good to get some air."

She led them up. The cool breeze was indeed refreshing to her after hours of being cooped up in one room. The light of a midday sun was softened by a faint covering of cloud. The decorative pools of water were gray mirrors of the sky.

Dimitri seemed oblivious to all of it. Barely two steps into the air outside and he stopped.

"I must apologize to you," he said to her feet.

"You don't--" Byleth began, but Dimitri was already digging into the folds of his cloak. He presented her with a small sachet tied together with thin green ribbon.

Byleth took it. The inside crunched against her probing touch. She raised it to her nose.

"Rose?"

"It's a tea blend," he said, shoulders dropping. "A paltry offering, I know, but I've struggled to come up with the right words alone."

Byleth curled her palm around the the gift and held it to herself. "Thank you, but why?"

"Why?" He stared at her, then reddened as his gaze slid past her. "I am... so sorry for how I treated you, Professor. I am deeply regretful of what happened."

Byleth was confused. "It's alright, Dimitri. You've already apologized."

He sighed again. "No, I mean... I am trying to apologize for something more specific with this. For what I did." He grimaced. "Before Gronder Field."

Byleth stared. "I forgive you?"

Dimitri squeezed his eye shut and took a long, long breath. "For... for putting my hands on you. When we... sparred."

"Oh," Byleth said, only half following. Then a memory surfaced once again - heat and motion in the dark.

"I didn't mind," she said. At the look of utter disbelief Dimitri threw her, she grasped for anything to reassure him. "These things happen, remember? People... bump into each other when they spar."

"Ah, I -- Do they? I mean, yes. Of course."

"I think I should apologize as well," Byleth realized. "I didn't always treat you with patience in those days."

Dimitri made a pained sound. "Please, don't. I didn't deserve anyone's patience."

"Of course you did," Byleth said. Dimitri shook his head, but knew better than to argue with her. He looked away again, at the view of distant rooftops and mossy crags the balcony offered.

Byleth looked at the sachet in her hands, then held it up.

"Join me?"

Dimitri turned back to her and smiled carefully. "Gladly, if you'll have me."

  
After Fhirdiad was won back, Byleth at last spotted Dimitri in the training grounds again.

It was two against one. Perhaps with three they might have stood a chance. Dimitri moved slower than she had seen in a good while, testing and practicing instead of rushing for death or victory.

Byleth could now better make out the composition of each move. Ah, and there was her own again - except not. He'd made it into something new, something that struck with overpowering force. Byleth was turning her foot to mimic him without even thinking. Perhaps she couldn't quite match Dimitri's brute strength, but that particular swipe seemed to take most of its power from a leap. She had an advantage in weight when it came to launching herself into the air.

She'd seen him cut through armor like it was little more than paper with a move like that. How was it done?

Dimitri spotted Byleth as the session wound down and approached her with a pleased smile.

"Professor! I didn't see you at first. Here to watch the drills?"

"Hm," Byleth considered it. "Actually, would you spar me? I wanted to see if..."

She trailed off. She had to have grown a second head by the way Dimitri was gaping at her.

"Oh. You wish to... spar. With me."

"Yes. I'd like to try and learn a move of yours."

He smiled, as polite as always, but it was strained. "I see. Perhaps another time?"

It wasn't like Dimitri to turn down a chance to spar her - but perhaps she was being unfair. It wasn't like the Dimitri she had known five years ago to turn her down. Byleth was seeing more and more familiar glimpses as the days wore on, but she had to learn to accept the differences as well.

She smoothed out the disappointment from her features and nodded. "Tea, then?"

Dimitri's relief was palpable. "Of course."

  
They walked around Garreg Mach together often, had tea every few days, and Dimitri developed an almost prescient talent for being otherwise occupied whenever Byleth so much as thought the word 'sparring'.

For all intents and purposes, she had him back. He became more and more open with his opinions during war council meetings. He was taking lunches with everyone again. Byleth had even moved their private meetings for tea to her room, where there was peace and comfort even when neither of them had nothing in particular to say.

She had so much of him now, and it wasn't enough. She'd changed. He'd changed her. Fear, joy, anger, peace and now... greed.

  
Her unsettled emotions aside, the practical truth of it was that the tables had been turned. She was learning as much from her former students as they were from her. She had tried to replicate the motions of Dimitri's technique alone, but there was always some step or turn that just wasn't right.

That was where Sylvain came in.

"I don't really have a preference for the flowers," he said. He twirled his lance, warming up.

"What do you mean?" Byleth asked, shifting her weight to limber herself as well.

"For when you end me with His Highness's secret technique. Actually, forget flowers. My sole request is that you weep for me at least a little bit. I know it'll be crowded at the funeral, but I'd personally appreciate it."

He grinned confidently at the smile he'd managed to tease out of her.

"Focus on dodging if you're worried," Byleth said, and began.

Sylvain had improved. Much of the flourish of his youth had been honed to a more utilitarian edge, but his style wasn't without surprises either. Byleth laughed as he spun away and then unexpectedly spun the same way again, forcing her own counterattack into a graceless pirouette.

Sylvain shrugged, looking pleased with himself. "Juvenile, maybe, but it gets the job done."

"I approve," Byleth answered.

Her attempts at Dimitri's leap remained incomplete and stumbling. The two that more or less succeeded in form went wildly astray from their target. She and Sylvain had to shrug and make plans for a rematch.

"Forget Sylvain," Felix grumbled in the dining hall after the match. "You owe me one."

"I'll make time for you," Byleth said between bites, "but I'm working on something with him."

"Yeah, on my early demise," Sylvain called, approaching.

Sylvain headed for the seat at Byleth's side, but was waylaid by Dimitri dropping himself heavily into the chair instead.

"The two of you gathered quite an audience," he said. "A new technique, Professor? Seems intriguing."

Sylvain diverted himself to the other side of table. "We're doing another run at it in a couple of days, if you two would like to bear witness to my final moments."

Felix curled his lip. "I have better things to do. But if you do actually figure something out, let me know."

Byleth glanced at Dimitri's profile. "And you?"

"We could use you, Your Highness," Sylvain explained. "Apparently it's something she thought up watching you."

Byleth thought she could sense Dimitri tense, but his tone remained mild and friendly. "Then I'll do my best to make the time."

  
He was true to his word, though Sylvain and Byleth were well underway by the time Dimitri appeared.

Sylvain had devised a toned down version of the leap for his own use. He and Byleth took turns attempting it, stepping aside to watch the other, seeing how to turn the jump to their advantage at closer and longer ranges both.

Byleth took two running steps and spun into a leap. Sylvain barely had to move at all to avoid the downward sweep. He clicked his tongue.

"It might be the way you start off? Try a wider stance."

Byleth spread out her stance and looked to Sylvain. He tilted his head this way and that.

"Hmm. May I?" He stepped behind her and turned her by the shoulder. He nudged one foot with his own, widening Byleth's stance even more.

He stepped back and looked at her with one hand on his chin. Byleth raised her eyebrows in question, but Sylvain just shrugged.

"Let's try it, I guess."

She ran, leapt, and missed by a mile.

"I think I did get a steadier start," Byleth said. She tried to remake her stance after Sylvain's example.

Sylvain hummed and reached for her shoulder again. "I think--"

"That's not it."

Dimitri strode up to them, a frown of suspicion trained at Sylvain.

Sylvain dropped his arm. "Ah, Your Highness. Didn't notice you were here."

"Dimitri! When did you get here?" Byleth asked, pleasantly surprised.

Dimitri crossed his arms. "A while ago. I don't think your stance is the problem."

Carefully, Byleth gave Dimitri a pleading smile. "Can you help?"

The frown melted slightly when he glanced her way. He hesitantly uncrossed his arms.

"I really thought that was it, though," Sylvain said, taking Byleth's shoulder again. "If you turn like this again, you'd get more momentum at the start."

Dimitri's hands curled into fists. "Maybe, but momentum's not the problem. Professor, may I have your sword for a moment?"

Byleth handed it to him and stepped back. Dimitri and Sylvain faced each other. It wasn't a long match. Sylvain got in one jab before his lance went flying.

Sylvain and Byleth watched the wooden weapon crash into a wall and turn into a rain of shrapnel.

"Uh, well, I gotta say I missed that," Sylvain said.

Dimitri seemed to startle, something dark dropping into sheepish surprise. "Oh. Sorry. I suppose we should repeat that."

"Nope," Sylvain said, spinning around and making a steady escape for the safety of Byleth's side. "Definitely your turn, Professor."

Dimitri scowled as Byleth took her position across from him.

"It's alright," she reassured him. "Shall we?"

After a while, Dimitri nodded carefully.

  
Their first bout together remained short and fragmented. Byleth, Dimitri and Sylvain all took turns, with Dimitri pointing out possible improvements and things to drop now and then. A bell rung after only a handful of rounds and they had to call the day done all too soon.

Byleth slept better than she had in a while that night. Her luck had another good turn the next day, when Dimitri caught her after an evening meeting.

"Professor," he said in a wary tone. "I thought we might train together again tomorrow. I believe it might go faster if I assist you rather than Sylvain, at least."

"Truly?" Byleth asked. She felt her face break into a grin. "I would love that."

Dimitri looked quickly away. "I-I was thinking we might try after the afternoon bell."

Byleth's smiled dimmed a fraction. "The training grounds are usually pretty busy at that time."

Dimitri nodded at a wall. "I'm sure we'll find space."

  
They didn't.

There had been a thrum of anticipation running under Byleth's skin all day and she refused to give up. "We went outside the walls five years ago, didn't we? I wonder if that area is still clear."

Dimitri's tone was resigned. "I don't know."

He followed when she led the way. His steps were heavy and slow, like a man heading for certain doom.

They reached the familiar clearing after a short and silent walk. Though the younger trees surrounding the area had grown taller, no rubble or ambitious new plantlife had disturbed the clearing itself.

Dimitri turned his eyes upward when they stopped, mutely watching the distant sky.

Byleth watched him in turn. Her excitement had begun to temper at his long silence. "Are you alright, Dimitri?"

He nodded, not meeting her eye.

"We can try the grounds again tomorrow," Byleth suggested. She'd come so close to scratching an itch that wouldn't leave her, but Dimitri's comfort beat her need for excitement any day.

"No." Dimitri finally looked down at her. He'd set his jaw. "Let's do it, then."

Byleth frowned at him. "Dimitri, what's wrong? I'm not going to push you. Not any more, at least."

"You're not."

Byleth tilted her head. "Are you afraid you'll hurt me? Accidents happen, but I wouldn't blame you. And I do know what I'm doing."

"Do you really?" Dimitri muttered, breaking eye contact. "But that's not it. I..."

He grimaced and closed his eye. "Let's just do it. Please."

Byleth considered Dimitri - the white-knuckled grip he had on his training weapon, the unreadable plea on his face. She considered walking away, for now, and giving him time to work through whatever it was that still troubled him.

Byleth the Mercenary could have done it. Would have. But whatever she was now, her own desires were whispering too loudly to be ignored: you have this one chance again at long last.

"Alright," she said.

Byleth readied her blade. Dimitri crouched, ready and watchful.

She took three running steps, moving into Dimitri's space. He didn't move, no sign he would dodge or block were she to wind back her arm. He only watched her with fierce focus.

Byleth couldn't bring up her sword. The rest of the world felt blurry all at once. Her senses had narrowed to Dimitri alone: to the dark form of him against an afternoon sky, to the fire in his narrow gaze.

She took the final step into him. Dimitri dropped his lance and wrapped his arm around her back. Byleth was pulled flush against him and could feel the movement of his breathing against herself. Again. This again. But this time...

Byleth's eyes fell to Dimitri's mouth. She leant in. He made a noise of deep agony and closed the rest of the distance. It was barely more than a brush of his lips against hers when she felt him tense and stop.

Byleth's blade fell, forgotten, as she reached to grasp Dimitri by the shoulders before he could draw away again. She had never wanted him to step away.

"Don't," she whispered against his mouth and kissed him.

Dimitri trembled and melted into her. Byleth's hands moved up to cradle his neck. Both of Dimitri's arms went around her back, shaking with gentle effort.

"So that's it," she gasped against his mouth.

"What?" Dimitri asked in a daze.

Byleth shook her head in disbelief. How slow she had been. "I've wanted this for a while now. Ever since those nights in the cathedral."

Dimitri pulled back, eyes widening with shock. Then he laughed. He pressed his forehead into the crook of her neck. Byleth wrapped her arms around his shaking shoulders.

"Hmm?"

"Never thought I'd one day have you so utterly defeated," he said, still laughing against her. When he drew up, he was beaming. "You swept me off my feet years ago."

  
After the war, it became a rumor both in Garreg Mach and Fhirdiad that anyone able to catch the Archbishop and King sparring would be in for a show greater than any sword dance even the most talented performer could offer.

Even as the years of peace wore on and others lost their edge, the two did not. The flash of lance and blade remained as fierce and fluid as ever.

The Archbishop had been blessed, of course - but perhaps, the people whispered, the Goddess had also granted the King a gift of eternal strength. A gift so that both would remain strong enough to protect the land for all their days to come.

What the prying eyes missed were the many sessions between just the two of them. The languid endings to long rides into abandoned moorlands and the quiet dances under moonlight. Flashes of weapons, real or imagined, that always ended in laughter and shared sighs.


End file.
